Just Say It Back
by AntiGravityEvilMidgetPenguin
Summary: I'd said it once, although, of course, the drugs had everything to do with it. But had he ever said it? No. And maybe, just maybe, that hurt. Maybe I wanted him to say it back. But he wouldn't know that, would he?
1. I Realize Something

**Okay. So this is my first fanfiction. Try to be nice? Please? I apologize in advance for any crappy cliched plots, typos, or OOCs.**

So I had a problem. A really big problem. Yeah. But hey, I'm freakin' Max Ride, right? My life is _always _filled with problems. Yay for me, I know. I mean, I had the whole save-the-world problem just a couple of months ago, there's the creepy Eraser-attack feelings, the M-Geeks and Flyboys killing the flock paranoia, and all that other stuff which makes my skin crawl.

I sat on my bed, the eraser of a pencil between my lips as I chewed on the pencil. A blank notebook was out on my lap. (It's supposed to be my science notebook, but I never take notes. Don't tell Mom. She thinks I'm a 'role model' to the kids and all that crap.) We were staying with Mom for a couple of months, until Jeb came around with his "Max, you must save the whole world—_again!_" and ruin our happy little vacation. Well, it _had_ been happy so far.

That was, of course, excluding my big problem.

My problem? I'll give you a hint. It involved a dark-haired bird-boy who I just happened to know for my whole life. Yeah. It was Fang. And now what did he do this time, dear reader who happens to be invading my privacy? Well…nothing, actually.

I know, you're going, like, "What the hell, Max? Why're you mad at Fang for nothing? Don't you want some peace-and-quiet crap for once?"

First of all, _you_ try having peace and quiet when Nudge is rambling on and on, making Gazzy overuse his 'digestive problem,' which leads to Angel whacking her brother on the way to escape the smell, Gazzy yelling at Angel, Nudge siding with Angel and Iggy siding with Gazzy—leading to a _giant_ screaming contest—and Iggy letting his tomato soup and grilled cheese burn. That puts him in a bad mood, which makes him blow up something and set the living room on fire. Then we have to evacuate and tell the neighbors it was nothing, which is getting considerable harder to do, as this is, like, an everyday situation.

So, yeah. Peace and quiet, much? I thought not. But this, to me, was an even bigger headache than Nudge begging me to buy that 'cute pink dress with the sequins and pearl buttons' and Iggy burning tonight's cheesy lasagna, (heaven on earth). That's just my opinion, though.

It'd been two years. Two freakin' years and now I was sixteen. Remember in that book that dear little James Patterson wrote—cough, cough _blackmailed me into telling him_, cough, cough—when I'd been doped up on enough Valium to kill an elephant or a tiger? I'd said some pretty embarrassing things to Fang, if you'd read that book, and he'd been holding it over my head for this whole time.

Take last week on Wednesday evening. I'd just put Angel and Nudge to bed, and told Fang to wrangle Gazzy into the bath, and he'd been kicking and screaming to as he was dragged up the stairs and locked in the bathroom. At least, that's what I'd thought. I heard Gazzy yelling "Fnick, no! Lemme go! Lemme go! Ow! Iggy, _help_!"

Half an hour later with three stories about Princess Angel, Fairy Nudge, Prince Gazzy, and Fairy Iggy (which, trust me, was _hilarious_), Pixie Sticks, and Evil Queen Janssen, the two girls were asleep.

I walked downstairs, tying my hair into a loose ponytail, shorter strands falling out of the ponytail the moment I tied it. What can I say? My hair is a lost cause. So I grabbed an apple from the kitchen counter and entered the living room, hearing the T.V. on. Well, let's see…A tall, strawberry-blond head, a shaggy black head…mmm…you did _not_ just hear that…and a small spiky blond hair. Good.

Whoa, _what?_ Small spiky blond head? What's wrong with this picture?

What in the name of hell, heaven, and chocolate-chip cookies was _Gazzy _doing downstairs when I'd specifically told Fang to put him to sleep? No, not in _that_ way. As annoying as Gazzy got, I'd never kill him. I think.

I stormed over to the sofa and grabbed Gazzy by his left ear.

"What're you doing down here, Mister?" I barked crisply. Gazzy flinched and looked pleadingly at Iggy and Fang. Iggy, sensing his partner-in-crime-and-bombs looking at him, leapt up. He strode over to me and released my grip from Gazzy's ear.

"Oh, uh, hi Max," he weakly began. "We were, y'know, just gonna tell Gazzer to go to sleep…right Gaz?"

Gazzy nodded weakly. "Yeah! That's right!" He gave me a wobbly smile. It was the kind that said _Max, don't kill me! It's not a lie, I promise! Er…Maybe, I think? Yeah, it's the truth!_ And of course, the whole smile was a lie. But I digress. It's a pyro and a stink-bomb-blaster. How good with lies can they get?

Don't answer that.

I rolled my eyes and sniffed Gazzy, groaning. Then I spun around, glaring at Fang.

"What frickin' part of 'Can you give Gazzy a bath?' don't you understand, you jerk?" I snapped. I mean, come _on_. It's not that hard…Actually, it is. That kid doesn't whoop Eraser butt for nothing. Not to mention, when he's covered with bubbles and soap, the Gazzer is slippery. He's known for slipping out of the bathroom and locking himself in his room before he realizes he needs to get the soap and shampoo out of his hair and body. Smart, huh?

And what was stupid Fang's response? A shrug.

A _shrug._ _A freakin' damned shrug!_

I could have killed him. Killed him with my half-eaten apple in my right hand. How, you ask? Too bad. Why would I tell you?

"Iggy, upstairs. Now. It's eleven o'clock. Turn off the T.V." Iggy stuck out his tongue, but missed me by about two feet.

"Fine," he grumbled, walking up the stairs. Yeah, that's me—Mad Max. The 'Mad' is capitalized for a reason. Mess with an angry Max and heads will roll, blood will stain carpets, and windows will break. It has happened—in the E house, when Iggy was still innocent…ish.

"You too, Gazzy. Tomorrow, I will personally _force_ you to have a bath. We clear?"

Gazzy nodded sheepishly. He was scared, I realized. I softened my voice.

"Hey, it's not your fault. I blame these two, 'kay? Just go upstairs and Iggy'll tuck you in. Unless you want me to?"

Gazzy grinned happily, smug that he wasn't at fault. Well, maybe a little bit, but he's eleven, and he's still my little trooper. So I cut him some slack. As for Iggy, it wasn't his fault. I hadn't asked him to give Gazzy a bath, had I? (The answer's no, idiots.)

So I waited for the two to tromp up the stairs, almost waking up the sleeping girls upstairs with their elephant feet. Then I turned my attention to Fang.

"What's _this_ supposed to mean?" I demanded, demonstrating a shrug.

Guess what was his response? Answer 1: _I'm sorry Max, I'm so sorry. I should have done everything you said. I'll never do it again, I promise._ Answer 2:_ I wanted to get you down here alone so I could tell you I love you._ And no, I did _not_ feel any tingles at the possibility of that answer. Besides, we almost always talked alone after the kids were asleep. Yes, Iggy's a kid. He acts like one. And that's too sappy for my taste. Just...ugh. But anyways, here's Answer 3:_ He just shrugs._

Congratulations, people that picked Answer 3! As for the rest, what sort of insert-synonym-for-mentally-degrading word people are you? Hmm? I'm waiting.

Still waiting.

Still waiting.

Oh, _whatever._ I'll just get on with the stupid flashback.

"I _hate, hate, HATE, _you!" I snapped. So what if I was angry? I hadn't had a night of sleep in three weeks. Angel had been having nightmares for weeks, and she hadn't let me get a minute of rest. But that's what I do. She calls me her 'mother.' She's sweet, isn't she?

Fang chortled. "Nah. I don't think so."

"Oh, _yes_ I do, you ass! And you can just damn yourself to hell!" I know, overreacting, much? But I just was at my last inch of patience.

"No. You _love me thiiiis much!_" he laughed. And I lost it.

"Shut _up_, you bastard!" I snapped. He just laughed again.

"Go to sleep, Max. You need it. I'll take care of Angel tonight. You're going insane from not sleeping." Wow. New record of words for Fang!

I spun away on my heel, and stomped up the stairs. I'd never admit it, but I did need that rest. It was a whole new world when I woke up, and by the way Fang smirked at me during breakfast, he knew it too. I never told him how good my sleep was, though.

But that leaves me here, in my room, with a notebook and a chewed-up pencil. My door was closed but not locked, and I could hear Angel and Nudge laughing as they did God-knows-what in their room. Gazzy and Iggy were suspiciously silent, and Fang was, well, somewhere, being Mr. Dark, Tall, Emo, and Handsome.

Right. Delete, burn, chop, and repeat process to the last word. Handsome?! Damn, I need more rest. _What about 'hot'?_

_Shut the freak up, Voice!_ I screamed. Perfect timing, eh?

_You never denied my question_. It sounded freaking smug and like Fang when he thinks I'm defeated. But Maximum Ride is _never_ defeated. So shove that up your butt, Fang and Voice!

_He's my damn brother!_ I shot back. _Why the heck would I like my brother? Isn't that incest? That's illegal. God, you're messed up._

_Keep telling yourself that._

_Shut the *censored* up!_ And yes, I used the real word. Thank God Angel wasn't reading my mind.

Thankfully, the stupid Voice shut up. So, now to my problem. Dang, it's been four pages and I haven't told you yet? I'm turning into Nudge.

So it had been two years, correct? Yup. And had Fang _ever_ said that to me, even when he was on Valium? (He had surgery for at least fifteen broken bones, the igiot. Yeah, that's right. _Igiot._ It's based on a combination of 'Iggy' and 'idiot.' They're pretty much synonyms anyways)

No.

And—I'll deny I ever said this—it _hurt._ I mean, there was the whole boyfriend-girlfriendish kissing scene in _Max_—yup, I got my own little book named after _moi_, but we had stopped after that. It would hurt the Flock too much, so we'd stopped, to the chagrin (fancy big words! I get bonus points!) of Nudge and Angel. Oh well. Sucks to be them, doesn't it?

But he hadn't ever said he even _liked_ me. It was probably just a puny little crush. He'd always liked those freaky redheads, anyways. I mean, I'm brown-haired and brown-eyed. Nothing special about me.

Well, except for the wings. But hey, Mr. You-love-me-_thiiiis_-much has 'em too. So I'm not too special in his eyes. Besides, he probably would want a _normal_, pretty red-haired girl with pale skin and giant peridot eyes. (Ella kept on telling Nudge synonyms for colors in the dictionary at her request. I was 'playing' hide-and-seek with Angel, which kinda sucks when she's a mind reader. Sad, much?)

Me? Well, let's see. I've got un-barfed chocolate eyes and boring brown hair with stupid blond streaks. I'm a lucky girl. Mom had dragged us to a hair salon and the woman had chopped off my split-end hair until it was ragged-looking. Apparently it was fashionable. I didn't really give a crap.

Nudge said it looked nice. Gazzy just had his 'huh?' face on, and Iggy—well, remember this: _He can't freakin' see!_ Angel just smiled, and Fang gave his typical shrug.

"I like it." His words…so simple and to the point…makes me wanna murder him with a machete…Just sayin'. At least he didn't say he hated it.

But really? All I _really_ wanted was for him to say he at least _liked_ _me_. Not my hair. He didn't have to 'love' me. All he had to do was admit he liked me, even if he didn't like me anymore, but he liked me a long time ago. I didn't care.

I knew the truth was that he probably—scratch that, _definitely_—was having a good time when I wasn't around. Yesterday he had been smirking (because the Fangster is just too manly to laugh. Or is that emo?) at Iggy and Gazzy when they blew up yet _another_ lamp.

When I came into the room, however, he stopped. Just like that. His mask was on and there was no emotion. I quickly excused myself after telling the pyros they had to pay for the lamp and clean up and locked my door. No, I didn't cry. In case you forgot, I'm _Maximum Ride._

Since when do I cry?

_Since Fang ignores you, Maximum._

_Didn't I tell you to, I don't know, SHUT UP?_ I mentally screamed. 'Cause, _hello_, I don't want the Flock thinking I need to check into a shrink. And by the way, I _didn't_ cry.

At this, I swear I heard a freakin' chuckle from the Voice.

_You should know I communicate with you in times of need,_ the Voice said.

Whoa. Hold on a second. _Times of need._ A) Who says that? B) In what world and dimension does me wanting Fang to stop acting like a rock count as me being—excuse me while I spit out that word—needy?

_Just leave me alone!_ Suddenly there was a knock at my door.

"Max, you okay?" It was Iggy. "Max, you in there?"

"Yeah. I'm okay."

"Can I come in?" His voice was worried. "You were screaming 'Just leave me alone!' Was it the Voice again?"

"Yeah, it was the Voice. Seriously, I'm okay. Tell the Flock it's nothing. It's just some stupid crap about saving the world and that stuff," I lied swiftly. _Please don't figure it out, please don't figure it out…_I prayed to the big guy upstairs. Iggy was our lie-buster of the Flock. It's kind of hard to miss a lie when your other senses are sharpened to a near-perfect sense and you've got a sixth sense that's almost as sharp as mine. I heard his footsteps going down the stairs and let out a sigh of relief.

Emphasis on _almost_ as sharp as mine_._ Because I'm Maximum Ride and I can fly solo.

Yeah, right. I need my Flock for everything. And I need Fang for _everything._ I need him to lean on, support me, and I need him to care for me.

It was Iggy who asked if I was okay when I screamed, not Fang. And damn, it hurt me like someone ripped a chunk of me out. I'll deny I ever wrote this, okay? Good.

Yeah, I never wrote that.

So I stared at my empty 'science' notebook. I groaned and sat down. Now, what to write?

_Once there was a girl. Her name was Maximum 'Charging Off' Ride, but everyone called her Max. And the truth about her, behind her badass façade, was that she was in love._

No. Just _no._ Ugh. All the stupid sap? Gross! I began scrubbing at the words with my eraser. About half it was gone before I deemed the sappy words nonexistent.

Now what? Let's try again, shall we?

(Heh. I sound so old-fashioned when I say 'shall we.' It's kind of funny to say, too.)

_She was in love. It rocked her world and ripped away the foundations…She craved i—_

NO! STOP TAKING OVER MY BRAIN, CUPID! I'LL SHOOT YOU WITH YOUR OWN ARROWS AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!

Ah, that felt good. But I digress.

So I slammed my book shut and tromped down the stairs to the kitchen. Might as well not work on an empty stomach, right?

As long as I didn't bump into the Fangster, I was perfectly okay. As I slipped in the kitchen, grabbing an apple, I slammed right into Gazzy. He was carrying a bottle of vinegar and baking soda. Capital uh-oh.

Gazzy grinned at me. "Hi Max!" He quickly shoved the baking soda under his shirt and spilled half the bottle of vinegar on the floor as he tried to hide the glass bottle. I raised my eyebrows and Gazzy sheepishly grinned again. "I'm building a volcano with Iggy. We already have the lava and the explosion, and Iggy's getting the special acid. Don't worry…its outside."

I groaned. "Gaz? Does this 'project' include any of Angel's, Nudge's, or my stuff?"

"Nope! We're only using one of Fang's shirts and Iggy's sunglasses." Then he ran out of the kitchen, past my super-ninja reflexes and was gone. I'd deal with the pyromaniacs later—I think. I grabbed a paper towel and began wiping up the vinegar, crinkling my nose at the smell.

I polished off my apple and grabbed a box of Ritz crackers. Don't ask why. It was the closest thing to my hand. As I began working my cracker-disappearing magic, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

Let's see…Erasers, Flyboys, or M-Geeks? Or, I dunno, _Fang_? Well, sorry, buddy, but this time you're paying. Now, should I kick him, punch him, or just take the nice, shiny silver knife close to my hand and castrate Mr. Emo? Oh, the possibilities…

"Pikachu is real. Didja know that?" Then I threw a fist of cracker crumbs into his face. Fang's face? _Priceless. Just so, damn freaking priceless!_

It was a combination of WTF, Damnit-I-Can't-Believe-I-Fell-For-That-Stupid-Trick, and Max-is-So-*censored*-Dead. Which proves how much of a moron he is, 'cause I've kicked his butt in everything. And it was, of course, his hot, sexy, kissable face.

Whoa. What the hell is up with me and random sentences today? Delete, cuss, and burn.

"Pikachu? Where the hell did you come up with _that_ crap?" His voice was like a chocolate-chip cookie. Y'know, it was smooth, dark, and goddamn _irresistible._ Fine, I'll admit it. _He _(as in Fang Ride himself) was goddamn irresistible.

And yeah, I'd fallen. Fallen for him.

Dammit.

And did he so much as like me back? No. So it was a lost cause. Yeah, I'm admitting I like Fangles. So what? I'm pretty sure you, as in the rabid fangirl staring at what I'm writing and again, _frickin' invading my privacy_, have a crush on Fang too, (probably a freaky OMGILOVEYOUFANGANDICAN'TLIVEWITHOUTYOU crush. And how do I know this? Well…There's an interesting website called Fanfiction. Have you heard of it? Yup. You have.)

I can read your mind. Like right now, you're thinking 'Oh no you can't, Max,' or 'Oh, _really_'? Yeah. I'm psychic, so don't forget the awesome powers of Max!

"Uh, Max? Hello? You in there?" Fang's voice broke me out of my mental rant and made me blink. He waved his olive hand over my face.

"Yeah. Say _what_ again?"

"Pikachu. Where'd you come up with that electricity-charged rat?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked in a smooth arch. I _hated_ the fact that he could do that when all I could do was just raise both eyebrows. Note to self: _Beat freaking Fang in an eyebrow raising competition someday and rub it in his face._ Because I'm just so badass and awesome and immature that I have to beat Fang in an eyebrow-raising competition.

"Iggy's obsessed with Pokémon. He's in a relationship with Pikachu. She's his girlfriend." I stumbled over the word 'girlfriend.' God, what the _hell_ was up with me today? I couldn't even form a complete, sensible sentence without messing up my words!

DIE, CUPID, DIE! *shoots a million pink (blegh) love arrows at the fat flying baby and laughs* TAKE THAT, SUCKER! AND THAT! PEW PEW PEW! (That was the sound of the arrows hitting Cupid.) Oh, that felt _really_ good.

But Fang was now staring at me with a Maybe-We-Should-Check-Max-Into-A-Shrink look on his face. Or maybe that was what he looked like when I started randomly laughing in the middle of the kitchen. Oh well. Fangy's a big boy, right? He can deal with Max bursting into laughter at random times in random places.

Good.

"Wait, lemme get this straight: Iggy's _dating_ a rat named Pikachu? And how do you know that Pikachu's a girl?" Apparently Iggy dating a rat can cause Fang to actually start _talking._ I should thank Iggy for that.

"I'm not dating Pikachu. How would I know it's a girl? And if it was, I'm not lesbian!" I pointed out. Fang smirked at me and I stuck out my tongue at him. He rolled his eyes, but that's what Fang always does, so I wasn't worried.

He muttered something under his breath, something like, "Thank _God_ she's not lesbian," but I'm not sure. It could have been something like, "Thank _God_ she's not loopy." Which, I am totally not! Fnick is! Not me!

…

Well? He is crazy! "We are freakin' ballerinas! You are a fridge with wings?" Which boy calls him a ballerina? I began to laugh again. Fang in a pink tutu and leo-whatever-the-heck-it's-called? I would _pay_ to see that. And videotape that and post it on Nudge's Youtube account, or Fang's blog with a post from Max.

Fang swatted my head. "Max! Hello!"

"Oh, hi." He scowled at me and I smiled somewhat innocently. Okay, maybe not _that_ innocently. But I can pull off an Angel pretty well, I think. Emphasis on 'I think.'

Fang hopped up on the counter, pushing aside a few piles of Ella's old homework and Mom's medical files. He looked at me, and I stared right back. Yes, we _are_ that immature to have a staring contest when we're sixteen. Well, actually I'm sixteen. Fang's turning sixteen in a few weeks, considering I'm four months older than him. So stick that in your juice box and _suck it_, Fang!

The kitchen door swung open and Ella bounded in. "Hi guys!" she chirped, sounding _way _too happy. Uh-oh. "Guess what?" None of us responded.

"Guess what?" Ella persisted. I shrugged, my eyes slightly watering. Fang's eyes were perfectly fine. Finally, my sister realized we were having a staring contest and scowled at us, snapping her fingers in front of Fang's face. He blinked once, slowly, and I cackled.

"I won, I won, I won!" I sang happily, spinning around the kitchen happily. "Nick lost, Nick lost, Nick lost!" Nothing annoys Fang so much as one of the Flock calling him 'Nick,' the name he uses in public.

His eyes slit together icily and I could _feel_ his pissed-off glare boring holes into my back. "Max…" he warned coldly. I ignored him _again._

He slid off the counter. "Max…"

That was when Ella stamped her foot angrily. "Stop it, you guys!" she snapped. "Can't I _tell_ you something? Max, stop annoying Fang. Fang, don't kill Max, or I'll let Gazzy let one rip tonight in your room." That shut us up. Who knew my little sis was so intimidating?

Oh, you did? Hmm…Well, if you know so much about the Flock and everyone around us, why don't you just take a break and buy us a box of Sees candy? The caramel pops are Nudge's favorite. I like Hershey's better. But Sees Candy is farther away, so you can just leave and buy some chocolate now. 'Kay?

Darn. _Go away, you freaky fangirl!_

Okay, back to my rant.

Ella was happily chatting away, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a carton of cranberry juice. "So, Iggy asked Nudge out!" At this point, I began choking on my spit and had to have Fang whack me on the back multiple times, harder than necessary. Ow, goddamnit!

"And Shaw Akers asked _me_ out last week so we're going on a double-date! Isn't that awesome? I really think you two should get together, since the sexual tension around you guys is _killing_ me and the Fax…"

"The 'Fax'?" I interrupted, but Ella ignored me.

"…and it's _sooo_ annoying and _why_ can't you guys get together, because you'd look _sooo_ cute, like yin and yang!"

Sexual tension and Fax? Ella's been hanging out too much with Iggy and Nudge. _That_ much I _know._

"And Iggy never told me he liked Nudge because…" I demanded.

"I knew," Fang blatantly announced. At this point, I was getting pissed. "And you didn't tell me _because_?"

"You'd say no. That's what Iggy thought."

"So?" Ella quietly left the kitchen with her juice carton. "I _knew_ Nudge liked Ig."

Fang shrugged. "Well, they're together now. So what?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm trying to hold the Flock together. You're my second-in-command. Why don't you tell me anything anymore?"

"It's nothing you really need to know," Fang simply said. "You know Nudge likes Iggy. I know Iggy likes Nudge. Angel reads minds. They're obviously gonna get together."

I hate you logic! Go and have sex with yourself! (Since I'm not allowed to say the F-word or "Screw you" when Angel might be listening, 'go and have sex with yourself' is the easiest way out.

_Max, what's sex?_ I groaned. It's kinda sad that Angel's eight and doesn't know what sex is. I'd tell Nudge to give her the Talk later. Why Nudge? 'Cause repeating that freaky piece of knowledge once scarred me for life. Repeating it _twice _would be hell.

Iggy gave Gazzy the Talk already, and I shoved Fang into the room with them, 'cause, hey, _he's_ not getting off that easily.

_Sweetie, it's nothing you need to worry about. Nudge'll tell you about it when you're older, or you'll learn about it in school. _(Yeah, we do go to school…Like once a month. We mostly skip it. Well, whaddya think we did? Actually _do_ our homework and be perfect kids? The closest perfect kid we got was Nudge. She loved school, and went there like once a week, in contrast to the rest of the Flock.)

_M'kay. Do ya know where Ella is? Nudge really wants to show her how to redesign her jeans, especially the ones with the torn knees. She calls them 'really cute.' I like Nudge's pink skirt better, though._

Oh, great. Angel's turning into a fashionista? God, _save me!_

No? No one listening to me? Ah, well. That's what I get most of the time. On with the story that I keep on getting sidetracked with!

But anyways, I hate Fang's logic, and I made that a point to elaborate that to him with a couple of colorful _hmmphs_ and words. Fang chuckled at my indignation (wow, I really _am_ turning into the next James Patterson author dude, aren't I?) and hopped back up on the counter like the fluffy white bunny rabbit he is. Yes, Fang is fluffy, white, and cuddly.

If you actually believed that, well…I'm _ashamed_! Now go away because you're not worthy enough to be poking through what I've written and die already! Okay, I really need my rest. No, _don't_ look at me like that.

"So, what did you come down here for? I'm guessing you didn't come down here to throw crackers at me and start a Pikachu argument, right?"

I flinched. "I was _hungry._ Jeez." Unfortunately for me, Fang caught my slight flinch.

"Well, _something's_ wrong. You don't usually twitch this much, Miss Rabbit."

Hey, that was _my_ joke about Fang being a rabbit! He can't just flip it around on me! The horror! It's _my_ joke, not yours, Fang! Mine!

That was just _weird._

…

Yeah.

I opened my mouth to protest that _nothing_ was wrong, that I was _perfectly_ fine, and that Fang didn't need to worry about me. (Even though he says that it's his job to worry about me—both in the good and bad way….I don't get shivers when he says he has to worry about me. Don't worry. I'm not that crazy, even though I might like him—emphasis on…oh, crap, I already admitted I liked it. *Cue string of serious cuss words*)

I _really _wasn't supposed to tell you that, but now that you know, ya know. Sadness. Yup. So anyways, Fang stared at me with a seriously deep, dark, smoldering, _sexy_ look, and I could feel myself melting like an ice cube in summer, or the sticky green slime from Iggy's new bomb oozing all over the floor. That, by the way, was _not_ fun to clean up. And that wasn't a good simile. At all. Me—a pile of slimy green goop from a bomb? As Nudge would say—_ewww!_

I opened my mouth and closed it for the second time, probably doing a near-perfect imitation of a goldfish. That, ladies, gentlemen, and crazy fangirls, is bad. Really, _really_ freakin' bad.

I took a deep breath and hopped off the counter, tilting up my chin to stare at Fang right in his mind-boggling _hot_ black eyes. Oh, God. This was an _extremely_ bad idea, and I don't have bad ideas. Ever. Then I opened my mouth, but Fang cut me to the talking, which was weird.

"Max? You okay?"

Dear Jesus, help me.

**Chapter 1 is now complete! Y'know, this was supposed to be a one-shot...but I have a habit of making things too long. So I cut this into a two-shot. Drop me a review, please? As long as it's not a flame, I'm okay.**


	2. I Misinterpret Something

**Back with the second and last chapter! Again, I'm really sorry for any typos or stuff like that.**

* * *

"No. I am very much _not_ okay, Fang," I snapped. He raised his eyebrows—yes, both of them, the equivalent of saying "Go on, Max."

"I'm not okay, thanks to you." I stumbled over the last word of the sentence. This was _really, really, so frickin' bad_, but I couldn't stop myself. And that was like a nightmare. If I cut myself off, Fang would pester me until I told him. When I told him, hell would rise up and strangle me, chop my head off, stab me a million times, and kill me. So yeah, I was _not_ okay.

"Remember when I was fourteen and we were here at Mom's house, and I wanted to get the chip out?" Fang nodded. "Well, I, um, said…I said some crap that I wasn't supposed to say, right?" He nodded once more. "And, you…you never said anything back to me. You never told me, you…liked me or other stuff like that. And now you've been ignoring me. I see you laughing with Ig and the Gazzer, and when I come in, you stop and don't look at me. And I have no clue why and…"

"Max," Fang interrupted, but I was on a roll.

"…it hurts. Yeah, it so _freaking hurts._"

"Max," Fang repeated.

"And you know what I want? I want things to either go back to when you had no clue to what I said two years ago when I was up on a stupid drug, or you to say you like me, hate me, or whatever you wanna say. Although I don't want you to hate me."

"_Max,_" Fang snapped. I stopped.

He opened his mouth and closed it, looking awfully guilty. It was the kind of look that said, _I don't like you, but I really don't want to hurt your feelings._ Something inside me twisted.

By the way, see how serious this was? I wasn't even cracking a stupid joke about it.

He didn't say anything, just looked at me with his deep, drowning eyes. I really need to take some medication that stops me from saying such stupid sappy things.

I began rambling like Nudge, and that was seriously not something I wanted to do at the moment, but I couldn't stop. "It'sokayifyoudon'tlikemeIjustreallywantedtokn owandyoudon't…"

Here, I paused for breath. I'm not Nudge.

"…havetolikeme,Ipromise,butIreallylikedyou,actuallyIstilllikeyou."

Fang didn't say a word, and I felt my stomach plunge. Whee! There's a rollercoaster in my stomach! And my heart's on the ride and the machines just malfunctioned. This was fun.

Yeah. It was as fun as the dying and experimented-on kids we met in Africa.

And penguins with machine guns and bazookas blowing up the dying kids. 'Cause penguins are insane that way.

I love sarcasm, by the way. Just in case you haven't noticed.

I lowered my chin and eyes, suddenly taking an interest in the patterned white-and-mint-green tiles of the floor. There was a coffee stain next to the stove, and there was a light film of dust under the refrigerator. I _told _Iggy to wipe up his dust bomb!

I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked my burning eyes. They hurt even worse than having a staring contest with Angel, and _damn_, that girl can stare. Except I kept on blinking my eyes for some strange reason, and some of the dust on the floor must have gotten into my eyes, because everything looked so damn _blurry_, and there was water in my eyes.

"Okay," I whispered, hating the way my voice cracked and dropped pathetically. Yeah. Hey, penguins with bazookas, can you shoot my stupid voice?

No? Well, _fine._ Keep on blowing up those poor little dying kids in Africa. Oh, I'm making you feel guilty? Good. Now, hand over the guns and head over to the jet plane over there. It's your free ride back to Antarctica. Thank you.

Oh, and kill Dr. Amazing Red-Head for me. I'll give you a bazooka to do the job.

Thanks, little Midget Penguin!

So, now, please ignore the fifty million or so guns lying around me and the jet plane in the distance, freaky fangirl. I should start calling you FF, but that would mean the same thing as Fanfiction, so I won't.

Back to pathetic Max.

"I just…I just wanted to know," I whispered softly, letting my shoulders slump and not daring to look at Fang's face. Great way to ruin a perfectly good July day, Max. I know, huh?

I literally whipped out my wings and _flew_ out of the kitchen to save the organ in my chest from being ripped apart and me getting cardiac arrest and dying. Not good, folks, not good. Especially when you still have the job of saving the world. Yes, you owe me your lives.

So just _maybe_ I was hoping for a clichéd ending where Fang yelled something along the lines of "_Max! Wait—I love you!_" or some other crap. But hey, this is my mutant freak life. It's not a clichéd fairytale. Nope.

And I know it isn't very Maxish to hang my head and run out of the kitchen because a boy pretty much rejected me, but whatever. I really have no excuse. That _doesn't_ mean you, the creepy fangirl, can hold it over my head forever!

Yeah. I mean it.

I _really_ mean it. You _cannot_ hold it over my head! Ever! Ha!

Okay, I'm officially crazy. I know that.

I dashed up to my room, cursing the remnants of Iggy's dust bomb for making my eyes so blurry and watery, and slammed the door. I'm pretty sure Fang heard the slam and maybe everyone all the way to the dying kids in Africa.

And then my door fell off its hinges. Perfect. So what did I do? I whipped open my window, snapped out my wings, and jumped. The ground rose up at me, but because I'm not suicidal (as much as you wish I was) I caught a warm updraft and soared upwards past my open window and broken door. Now, think of the thing that makes you high. You know, you get dizzy and addicted to it, and you can't stop. Multiply that by infinity and beyond. (What? Gazzy likes Buzz Lightyear, and who am I, the queen of sarcastic awesomesauce, to stop him?) _That,_ my dear stalkers, is flying. And hot _damn,_ does it feel _good_!

Aren't ya jelly now? And _no_, if you say you're Nutella, I will _murder_ you. I've had enough of Iggy snickering that in my face. Good. I only have to murder…you, you, and you.

In your sleep. With a chainsaw and a bazooka. With a mini penguin helping me.

Watcheth yourest backeth! (Is that old English? You just add an 'est' or 'eth' at the end of everything, right? That's what Nudge says.)

Okay, I probably shouldn't listen to Nudge when she talks about old English, seeing as the computer doesn't recognize these words.

And, as cliché and stupid as this sounded, my worries melted away and I lost sense of everything, turning on my super-speed and cutting through the bright blue sky. Oh my _God_, I wanted to do this _forever._ And it's rare that I want to repeat something over and over. Usually I would slow down for the Flock, but this time, nobody was with me, so I could turn it on.

Okay, that was _sooooo_ wrong. I mean my super-speed, not anyone's 'ahem'—sorry, I coughed there. 'Cause we still don't know how far Angel can read peoples' minds.

I sounded like a sappy poet—worries melting away and losing sense of everything. Ugh. I should delete that, but I'm too lazy. And maybe I did have a few worries. What if Iggy found a stash of Francium or pure sodium, and then decided to add some water, causing the whole freakin' town to blow up? What if Angel decided it'd be nice to start mind-controlling the Flock into playing My Little Pony and dress up?

At least I wouldn't have to suffer the dresses and pink.

But yes, I did lose track of time, pushing away my misery. Maybe if I flew long enough I could out-fly my troubles and time, and stupid Fang would forget I ever said that. A girl can hope.

_But you're not 'every' girl, Maximum._

Oh, jeez. The Voice was back.

_No? I never noticed, dearest Voice,_ I shot back.

_No need for sarcasm, Maximum. I'm only trying to help. And the truth is that when you stop flying, the situation will crash down worse. Your best bet is to go home and confront Fang. He won't magically forget that you said you liked him. What if he _does_ like you?_

_He doesn't._

_How do you know?_

_None of your beeswax_, I grumbled, forgetting that the Voice was part of my stupid brain and could read my thoughts.

_Ah, so you misunderstood his expression, Maximum._

_Shut up. Just shut up._

The Voice started talking but I began to mentally sing the song that gets on everybody's nerves, 'cause I'm just so badass that I have to sound like a dying chicken to drown out the little know-it-all voice in my head.

The Voice shut up. Well, it's feeling cooperative today. Now, what time was it? I looked at the darkening sky, missing a beat with my wings and dropping about five feet.

Fail. Yeah, like your crush on Fang, Miss Fangirl.

What? Me jealous? Pfft. As if.

I ignored the Voice and kept on flying in my epically-failing quest of forgetfulness. But after I decided it was probably dinnertime, I kicked up my speed and turned around. As the house began to come into my raptor-vision, I slowed down, the oh-cuss-word-I'm-in-_deep_-cuss-word feeling overwhelming my brain.

I landed on my open windowsill and glanced around. I could smell tonight's lasagna, basil soup, rosemary-olive bread, and brownies with peppermint cream downstairs, but I realized with a shock that I wasn't hungry. I know, call the police. Maximum Ride not hungry?

THE WORLD IS ENDING! MAX ISN'T HUNGRY! AHHHH!

Yeah. Crazy alert, for you people.

And this was one of my favorite meals. I mean, I'd even asked (because _Iggy_ begs, not me) Iggy to add an extra layer of noodles, cream sauce, and cheese to the lasagna, and add extra chocolate to the brownies with peppermint cream. And Nudge had to have green sugar with the peppermint cream.

Aren't you hungry? *Cue my smug smile*

The only thing better is chocolate-chip cookies made by Mom. They're foodgasmic. Yup. That's a word, so don't look at me. Y'know, a combination of food and orgasmic?

Oops. Don't say that in front of Ange.

Anyways, I kicked off my shoes and socks, pulled off my T-shirt and jeans, and put on a pair of cotton short-shorts (they _were_ Ella's! I didn't buy them of my own account! And wearing that in _public_? Ugh, _gross_!) I washed my face with cold water, not wanting to wait for the water to heat up, and then slipped under the covers, dread coiling in my stomach at the thought of facing Fang tomorrow.

Maybe I'd get sick and wouldn't have to see him.

Yeah, except the only one of us who had ever gotten sick was Nudge. She was ice-skating and fell through a thin patch of the ice. It took us four hours to haul her through the hole, and she had only gotten a slight cold that was gone in about twelve hours.

So I highly doubted I'd get sick. Yippee.

I closed my eyes and ignored the sickeningly rich smells of food downstairs, trying to go to sleep. And I fell into my own light slumber.

…

Yeah, right. First of all, who says 'slumber'? That's so old-fashioned! And when we bird-kids sleep, we sleep _heavy_, only waking up when we need to.

So I was sound asleep for seven hours (until one in the morning) before I was woken by someone stroking my hair. Oh, kcuf spelled backwards. It's pathetic that I know how to spell curse words but don't know how to spell much else, eh? Thank God for spell-check.

But, yeah, the footsteps were too late for Nudge, Angel, or Gazzy to be up. Iggy wouldn't be touching my hair. When he did at age ten, he screamed like a little girl. _"OMG get it off me! AHHH! Get it off!"_

Ella? Nope, at a sleepover. Mom? Probably. I slowed my breathing; glad the covers hid the rise and fall of my chest.

"Mom?" I croaked out after a few minutes.

I heard a soft chuckle. "Sorry Max. Try again." Oh, _God._ It was _him._

I sprung up out of my bed, suddenly realizing I was only in a bra and shorts. Shite. That's the British way of cussing a special word. Who said you never learned anything hangin' around with me?

I grabbed the covers and pulled them up to cover my chest. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?" I hissed.

Fang shrugged. "Talk to you," he said simply, as if he woke me up every day at one in the morning—or is that night?—to talk to me.

"Talk to me tomorrow," I snapped. "I'm trying to sleep." He looked at me, raising his eyebrow _again._ I _so_ needed to beat him in that competition.

Damn. I'd forgotten that when I woke up, I couldn't go back to sleep. That's why I usually had last watch. The only way for me to go back to sleep was to let Fang's boring monotone voice (cough, cough, deep, sexy, _hot _voice, cough, cough) dull my senses and bore me to death.

I huffed. "Fine. Talk to me. And don't use up your word quota for tomorrow," I warned him. "I don't want you to be all emo and silent like you typically are."

Fang snorted. "Did you mean it?" he suddenly asked. I frowned, faking it.

"What? That I wanted Gazzy to have a bath last Wednesday? That I didn't want Angel to mind-control the girl at the toy store who was pushing her cleavage in your face because that was rude?"

"As I recall, you didn't really care if Angel mind-controlled that degrading-word-for-that-girl to jump off a cliff."

I mimicked his shrug. "I'd like _you_ to jump off a cliff with your wings shut _now._" I pointed out sarcastically. "I _really_ want to sleep."

Fang frowned. "Stop sidetracking me, Max." He stared into my brown eyes. Invading personal eye space…Must destroy…invading personal eye space…must destroy…invading personal eye space…must destroy…invading—yeah, you get the point. Destroy Fang.

"Did you mean what you said about liking me?" I stiffened.

"No clue what you're talking about. Did you eat a bad mushroom or something like that? Or are you just hallucinating and freaking me out?" I fibbed through my teeth.

He stared at me and I cringed. Insert-yet-_another_-cuss-word

And he stared.

And he stared.

And he stared.

And then a pink dinosaur with a wand burst through my screwed-up doorframe.

* * *

...

...

...

No, _really_. It _did_ happen. I mean all you gullible fangirls just _have_ to believe _whatever_ I write, right?

No? Good. You're not _that_ stupid. Thank God.

And then an awkward silence reigned. I twitched.

"Look, Fang. Just forget what I just said, 'kay? I was being stupid. You don't like me. I know that, so just forget it, okay? I still dunno why you were ignoring me, but whatever, right?"

Fang snorted. "You're dense."

I scowled. "Oh, _I'm_ dense? This's coming from Mr. Stupidly-Silent, right?"

Fang groaned. "You know what Max? I _do_ like you. Okay?"

And I gaped. Like another goldfish. Bad. Very, very bad. 'Cause this is Fang. He's the guy who is silent and emoish. Yeah, that's not a word. Bite me. He wears black, barely says anything, and showing emotion is a _big_ crime.

Yeah, I described him pretty well.

So Fang liking Max? Uh, _no._ No, no, no, no, _no._ No. And no, again. That was bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

Did I make my point clear?

Oh well. Just reread it again. I'm sure you'll figure it out.

Fang muttered something under his breath and stood up. "G'night, Max," his mumbled voice sounded from his fingers. And I'm sorry, but that's just—no. You don't tell Max you like her and then walk away. That's even worse than Fang showing emotion. 'Cause that makes Max mad. And when Max is mad, bad things happen.

God, I need sleep. Talking in third person…hmm, the first sign of insanity. Well, that describes _me._ Okay.

Pause my rant.

Words I've used too many times: 'really,' 'okay,' and insert-cuss-words-off-choice. And maybe 'yup.'

Un-pause.

So I jumped across the room, letting the covers fall. Oops. I blushed and crossed my arms across my black bra, my cheeks resembling the Red-Head-Wonder's hair. Fang smirked.

"Okay, you do _not_ just tell me you like me and act as if nothing happened and walk away!" I snapped. He stared at me, and I made a mental note to thank the big guy upstairs that Fang wasn't as perverted Iggy and wasn't gawking at my chest. Although Iggy's blind.

"You did."

"You freakin' _rejected_ me!"

He looked at me. "I'd never reject you."

Aww! Cue the sweet sappy music and swoons!

CUPID. WHAT. DID. I. TELL. YOU?

YEAH! LEAVE ME THE FREAK ALONE! GO SHOOT MORE ARROWS AT IGS AND NUDGE! SHOOT ARROWS AT THE SHAW-GUY AND ELLS! NOT ME! NO!

Skipping over my pissed rant at the fat baby with stupid wings… (How do they hold up his weight? Something I'll always wonder…)

I glared. "Oh yeah? Then why the hell were you ignoring me?"

He flinched. "Ummm…I can't tell you that."

My killer glare turned up to maximum—no, not my name, igiots—level. "Why?" I snarled, taking a step away from him.

"It's for Ella…she wanted to plan out Angel's birthday—"

Oh, and just in case you haven't noticed, we've decided on birthdays. Yippee for me. Angel's July 18. She says to drop a happy birthday comment in the box below. Whatever that means.

"—and Iggy kinda wanted to prank you to make everyone laugh…Oh, crap. Not supposed to say that."

I suddenly turned on my _I Will Kill Iggy_ Look, and Fang cocked an eyebrow, reading my expression perfectly.

"He's dead. Tomorrow Iggy will find himself buried under the front porch, the kitchen, and the bathroom sink. All in different locations. Like his body parts. And I'll start with castration," I stated, calmly and sweetly, my smile so large Fang knew that the pyro was dead.

And then I grinned. "So…Now what?"

Fang shrugged. "Hey Max, what'd you do if I said I…uh…loved you?"

I smirked. "I'd freak out, kiss you senseless, and all that crap. So, now what, again?"

Fang grinned. "I love you, Max."

And then I turned into Goldfish-Max.

_Oh my God, he…loves me? Okay. He does love me. Do I love him? Duh. So am I supposed to say it back? Nope. I'm Max Ride, remember. I'll just give him his promise._

And I turned into Leader-Max. "Okay. Freak-out time is over."

Then I smashed my mouth against his, just as he leaned over to start making out. And, God must have been _really _happy when he made that boy's mouth, 'cause I'd give up my chocolate-chip cookies for a year just to kiss him once. He probably went on a vacation after making Fang's lips.

Hell, Lissa could dye her hair blond and I wouldn't care!

Okay, that's pushing it.

And as Fang—somehow, the sneaky little bastard manages to survive without air—kept attacking my mouth with his, I smirked. He rolled his eyes, feeling my smirk against his lips.

"Somehow," I gasped, gulping in as much oxygen as I could while Fang lifted his mouth from mine, "I think you're enjoying this _way_ too much."

"And if I am?" he grinned.

"Better not let Angel read your mind tonight. And lock the door."

Fang rolled his eyes once more. "Yes, Captain Max," he snorted, but he was laughing as he said this, so I'm just that badass awesome.

And we returned to kissing.

Best ending to a horrible day. Ever.

Hell yeah.

* * *

**The end of my first two-shot! Thank you so much for reviewing and putting _Just Say It Back_ on your story alert! It means the _world_ to me and I can't thank you enough! So thankyouthankyouthankyouthan kyouthankyou!**

**~Fly On (copied from Fang who can't say anything about it)**

**Penguin**


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